Scum Kind Of Wonderful

My friend, “Claire,” 21, has been dating an older guy, 29, since July. Last week she told me he was in jail. She wouldn’t say why, but seemed determined to stand by him. Then, it came out on the news that he was engaged in some stomach-churning attempts to pick up 13-year-olds for sex in Internet chat rooms. I can’t, in good conscience, get behind her loyalty to a disgusting man whom, by the way, she still wants to marry and have babies with. I’m also afraid to express this to Claire because if she gets mad and refuses to have me as a support system, she’s more likely to stay with the creep.

—Between a Rock and Somebody Else’s Hard Time

That happy family fantasy of hers has a few snags; for example, dinner. Let’s see…there they all are at the table, Mommy, the pervert and their two beautiful children, and then Mommy leaves the room to get more mashed potatoes…turning Daddy into a parole violator. And then, even if Daddy is, for some wildly insane reason, allowed around his own children, it’ll be a bit hard for him to drive them to school if he isn’t allowed within 1,000 feet of the place: “You girls look both ways as you’re running across the highway!”

Perhaps not surprisingly, my first inclination was to have you ask “Claire” who stole her brain and replaced it with Fluffernutter. My second and wiser inclination was to call Dr. Stanton Peele. Peele, an addiction treatment specialist, is the guy I think best understands the psychology behind self-destructive behavior and what it takes to pry yourself or somebody else off a compulsion. He told me your hunch was right—the least productive thing you could do is slap your friend upside the head with her pedophile boyfriend. He explained that people don’t change because you tell them they should, but because they realize “what they’re doing violates what they are most about, and what they want most for themselves.”

Chances are, Claire wasn’t looking to end up with Chester The Molester. When she started dating this guy, she probably saw him as her ticket to white picket fence-ville. In time, a few pesky facts got in the way. But, never mind them! Like a lot of people, she simply pretended away the disconnect between what she has and what she wants—which, in turn, left her standing by her man as if he’s coming back from the war instead of the kiddie diddler wing in some prison.

To get Claire to face the contradictions, Peele recommends a non-judgmental, non-confrontational technique called “Motivational Interviewing.” (See Peele’s book, 7 Tools to Beat Addiction.) Start by becoming a double agent of sorts: Convince her you’re behind her no matter what so she’ll be free with facts and feelings, which you’ll tuck away for later use. In Peele’s words, “You need to be there as a support system and look for a teachable moment.” Instead of telling Claire she’s got her head on backwards, get her to answer questions that will make it obvious to her; for example, “So, you say family’s important to you. What do you think your family life will be like with this guy?” If you sense resistance, back off. “The key,” Peele writes, “…is to push the ball back to the other person (generally by asking questions).” Eventually, this should lead Claire to a question or two of her own, such as, “Did I seriously consider having a family with a guy who’d celebrate becoming a father by handing out cigars announcing, ‘It’s A Girlfriend!’?”

Stunning On Empty

I am a 44-year-old man, in between jobs. For once, I want the best-looking woman, because all my life, women I’ve been involved with have been just so-so. Unfortunately, I have a hard time speaking when I’m around beautiful women. I’m so desperate—I know there’s some secret to meeting and picking up wild, gorgeous beauties who enjoy sex and romance, and I’m hoping you’ll tell me what it is. By the way, if women respond to this message, you have my permission to give them my address and phone number. Please help me get a babe.

—Hungry Heart

Let me get this straight: “Unemployed mute seeks nymphomaniac centerfold. (Only the independently wealthy need apply.)”

Excuse me while I brace myself for the flood of email from international supermodels begging me to set up a series of catfights to decide which one will get to buy you dinner for the rest of your life.

If only you were willing to settle for a girl with inner beauty. There might actually be a few out there who’d let you wash their windows in exchange for a hot meal or two, maybe more. Then again, maybe just the right job is the key to attaining your dream—getting some gorgeous meow-kitty centerfold to pay attention to you, and maybe even whisper sweet nothings in your ear—stuff like, “Filler up, cutie-pie.”